


To Break Free

by 1f_this_be_madness



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: 1970s, Angry Roger Taylor (Queen), Angst, Band Fic, Banter, Bars and Pubs, Best Friends, Crossdressing, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dancing, Declarations Of Love, Drag Queens, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Epic Friendship, Everyone deserves tea, Fights, Gay Bar, Gen, Heart-to-Heart, Hugs, I don't really know how to describe this but Freddie gets into a tough spot and Roger gets him out, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Innuendo, Love, M/M, Manhandling, Naughtiness, Nicknames, POV First Person, POV Third Person, Panic Attacks, Period-Typical Homophobia, Platonic Kissing, Promises, Protectiveness, Roger Taylor (Queen) Is a Good Friend, Roger is up for pretty much anything, Self-Esteem Issues, Sharing Clothes, Slurs, Smoking, Swearing, Touring, Triggers, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 11,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24433561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1f_this_be_madness/pseuds/1f_this_be_madness
Summary: Roger's fighting mad. Well, he gets dramatic on work done after a show and Freddie storms off to a place Rog has never before been, but decides to go. After all, he may be miffed but that's no reason not to watch out for his friend. Besides, he's game for just about anything. Nothing wrong with new experiences, hey?(Or, whilst on tour in the late seventies, Roger goes after Freddie to a leather bar and experiences some hitherto un-encountered aspects of urban nightlife)
Relationships: Brian May & Roger Taylor, Elton John & Freddie Mercury, Freddie Mercury & Roger Taylor, Freddie Mercury/Original Male Character(s), John Deacon & Brian May, John Deacon & Brian May & Freddie Mercury & Roger Taylor, John Deacon & Freddie Mercury, John Deacon & Roger Taylor, Roger Taylor (Queen) & Original Character(s)
Comments: 84
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

It's another day on tour, and of course there's another row.

The roadies have made themselves scarce, tricksy bastards. We've been going and going, enough to start automatically checking out cords and amps and all that after shows on our own for the next one and the next. And Freddie is amped. He's so jazzed up, tapping his fingers and fidgeting and grinning, not bloody doing a thing to pack things up, which is usual; but he also wants to go off somewhere tonight, is practically itching for it, I can tell. Bri is in a tizzy because he wants to work something different for his guitar, and John's throwing peanuts into his hair, and I just want this shite to work out and for us all to be together, so I snap a bit. Normally I'd be alright with Fred wanting to head off, be chomping at the bit to go with him, but this time

"Fantastic, fucking great!" I shriek. "We can't get all our bloody gear together, but just go on, Freddie, and ditch - I'm sure Bri can stay round all night to work his shit so it'll be right, and we're here two bloody days but you're up and raring to go to your swell place with your new friends -" I glower at them, couple of hangers-on, sly little sycophants Brian had called them, and even before he did I was aware and wary of 'em. They're the type who hook their claws in and suck all the love and care and everything they can get from Freddie, I can tell; and he's so sweet and good and nurturing he'll give it to them. He gives of himself so freely but doesn't fucking see that he deserves better. And I can't fucking get him to see it, because I'm baring my teeth and begging him to see himself the way I do by talking shite about what he does, so of course his dander goes up.

"Don't knock it til you try it," he says, and "Get off your high horse, Blondie," which, well that would be it, except that's a comment typically reserved for Brian, and say what you like about me but I haven't a bloody high horse to ride on.

"Just a bleeding second-" I'm off, at that, leaping from the front of the stage down into the house. Lucky there's not a pit for me to fall into, as I've nearly concussed myself tripping on the stand for my hi-hats. John coughs and Brian tries to steady me but I'm past him, both of them, my face in Freddie's face as I snarl at him "I've got no fucking problem with what you're doing, just who you're with!"

"Oh, you don't believe I can make decent decisions? Don't worry, I won't disgrace the band. Wouldn't think that sort of thing would matter to you," He stares at me archly, that smooth face and those deep gentle eyes... Why can't he see-

I curl my fingers in a crushing gesture in the air and shout with frustration. "Oh fuck it, Fred, this isn't about the band, I-" _just want you bloody safe! Please, I need you to be careful._ "I - just - be careful who you go with," I sputter out, but that doesn't do what I want. On the contrary he's in even more of a huff, spinning round and grabbing his coat and shirt and hopefully a pair of trousers but he's prancing out away from me anyway with a caustic response.

"Oh that's it then? Well I'm a musical prostitute, darling, so what does it matter if I exercise the aspects of a literal one?" He winks, and then coldly "And I wouldn't talk if I were you, particularly not with your track record, Roger."

I gasp as he slams the door, expecting him to call me a bitch at the final, but my head moves like I've been slapped in the face, because that's what it feels like. I turn back to look at John and Brian, both of whom are staring at me like they're watching a fiery wreck and haven't figured out what to do in response. I snarl and rake fingers through my hair before flinging out both arms and snarling 

"Don't just stare at me, you tossers, who the fuck's going to go after him?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello loves, I got inspiration for this from Roger being protective towards Freddie, and also of him in costume/crossdressing as Rogerina, so - in typical dramatic Freddie and Roger fashion, they have a tiff. Freddie goes off, and well, Rog's got to do something...
> 
> I'm also in first person mode at the moment, having just written two stories of Freddie, thought I'd try a little bit more of Rog
> 
> Hope you like this, it's a bit of an odd thing at least in the inspiration sense. Do let me know what you think.
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	2. Chapter 2

Brian draws himself up in that way he has, and says in his loftiest voice, bastard, "Well since you were the one who got in the argument, I should think you'd go after him, Rog."

"Yeah, yeah," I wave a hand. Still angry though that is rapidly wearing off as I wonder where the hell Fred has gone. He usually tells us the name of whatever club or bar he's going, but I've gone and ticked him off and so he didn't. Bollocks to this shite. Squinting up at the pair of my mates, particularly at John, because Freddie probably let something slip to him more than Brian, as Bri gets uncomfortable when a discussion even skirts around the topic of S-E-X even though he's as active as us all, can't pretend any different. We've had a conversation to prove it. But he still gets all bumbling and red and I need a place name, not protestations. Gotta gear myself up for this as well. Roger Taylor, the drummer and one of the singers of Queen, though he's up for anything, I've never been in a place like where Freddie gets to. "Wossa name of his favourite haunt then?" I ask, and Brian and John look at each other, what the hell?

John blinks and smacks his lips and says "Erm, I think he called it the Shaft, or suchlike. It's in the meat packing district, he said."

 _Meat-packing district._ I snort. "Honestly?" Oh, Fred. "...of course it is." Can't stop the laugh from burbling out of me. Brian's head cocks to the side, curls falling away from his face and those hazel eyes getting all big and petulant because he doesn't register the joke.

"What's funny, Rog?"

"Come on, meat packing-- you can't say you don't know. What's Freddie go there for, Bri?" I wait with my brows up until the penny drops. Brian's eyes bulge and he inhales like he's just recalled his ability to breathe.

"Oh -!"

Deaks dissolves into giggles.

"Right, now you've got it, I'm going to get dressed for this." My shirt is practically soaked through from sweat anyhow, and I'm sure there's a certain... Etiquette, shall I say, at places like this. Least I'll be able to use my hose for something useful. Already have a headband as I pull at the knot of my neckerchief with my teeth, shuffle-running back to the green room. "Don't wait up," I call back cheekily to them with a flick of my tongue and wagging eyebrows. Should be quite the night.

"Oh and Bri," I call over my shoulder, "Need to borrow one'a your shirts, mate."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * "the Shaft" = there was a gay club/bar called the Mineshaft in the meat packing district of New York City, and of course Roger would make that joke, naughty boy. It was said to be one of Freddie's favourite places, but no longer exists, so I'll be talking about it based on inference.
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	3. Chapter 3

Fred's talked about his drag name to Elton John enough, and has named most of our crew so I'm pretty certain I've got the drag part of culture down. May as well use my own drag name and back it up with something.

Fred's called me "Liz", in regards to Elizabeth Taylor, according to him, almost since day we met. With my fancy fine features and my big blue eyes, always looking half-lidded like hers do (he said). Suppose I've got her look. Summat, least - don't have the hair colour, and my eyesight's so bad that's why I'm half-lidded, because I fucking squint. But what can I do? Anyhow I've always been a good hand at clothes and makeup and that, helped Clare with hers growing up and've always liked the way it looks. And dressing up in girl's clothes, well, that's just fun!

I've got a pair of sheer black pantyhose and a skirt already. Figure I ought to go for some shoes to fit an image, and I love my pinks - they're sparkling, literally, and I've worn 'em onstage so they're also back here. The shirt is a last second idea, because Bri is so bloody tall I can button most the shirt up and tie the two sides in front for a knot, give myself bit of a bare middle and gather the shirt enough it gives me more of a waist. 

Do all this and tie my shoes and it's time to reapply makeup before I fold my kerchief, tie it round my hair in a band, and shrug into my fluffy gold coat. Perfect. Skirt and shoes set me off, honestly; if nothing else happens I can laugh over how many blokes think I'm a bird. I skip out the green room just as John is coming in and blow him a kiss.

He's shocked enough to smack himself right into the doorframe and budge up Brian behind him, who takes a look at me and whispers "...Rogie?"

"I'm Lizzy tonight, Bri," teasingly slapping him on the arse, I head out with "Thanks for the lend!" An elaborate wink that causes Brian to flush lets me know I've got something down here. I haul arse out front and put my fingers to my lips, whistling for a cab. Fred needs me tonight, whether he knows it or not. I'm not entirely sure, but think the conversation starting behind me as I sashay swiftly away is 

"...did you know Roger owned a skirt?"

And the deadpan response "Are you really that surprised?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think Rog probably played dress-up with his sister at home and no one can tell me he wouldn't find crossdressing fun. Also he may have the whole "drag names" idea a bit wrong but who's to tell him?
> 
> *Freddie and Elton John did have drag names for one another, and Queen roadies were given feminine nicknames as well. And Fred really called Roger Liz in homage to Elizabeth Taylor
> 
> *Roger has a pair of sparkly pink converse and I love him for it, fashonista extraordinaire
> 
> He's ready for a night out now
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	4. Chapter 4

Cabbie that careens over about two lanes of traffic to get me drives a car as far from being the machine of a dream as is possible, yech. 

He's midaged at least. Starts chatting me up like I'm some wide-eyed Midwest girl first time in New York. I play along with him for a while and then watch his whole face change when I say I'm looking for a club in the meat packing district. First he tries to dissuade me from going down that way, but me not budging and saying I'm meeting someone there gets him all fidgety, and he mumbles something about the "load of fuckin' fairies, what freaks" there, which nearly sends me into the front seat to pound the piss out of him.

He ends up taking me to the end of the street where the Shaft is (he says) although it's more of an area where factories and plants budge up to places that have to be hidden. I pay my fare with no tip because not only what he said, but as I was getting out the wanking cabbie asked if I was sure I wouldn't like to keep riding with him, in the front this time, and he'd show me New York proper.

I stare him down as I jump out the door and slam it with force. "No but I think you should take a look in the fucking mirror before you call anyone else a freak, mate. I'm not interested, and I'm least half your age!" Making a mental note of his cab number I decide if I see any girls alone tonight to tell 'em not to take that cab. Normally I'd say they could just come on with me, but that's a choice and after seeing the other end of being chatted up... Dunno if I'm any better than that old codger. Hope so, but hell - I'm distracted by a pair of blokes in high heels and fancy dress, it seems, headed on past me like they've got a gig to get to. I take a second look as the cab speeds off and something unflattering is hurled out the window, and I realise these must be drag queens. Only reason I recognised them as blokes was because of how tall and broad they both were. But that cabbie is really asking for it. If I had something to chuck at him, I would, but all I've got are my sunglasses, so I shake them with an obscene gesture for good measure. 

"Fuck off you lousy bastard!" I see red, haven't even been to a place yet but if people can get heckled and shouted at anywhere, god, Freddie must hate it. Suddenly something is blinding me and I blink, and feel softness and possibly feathers? Around my upper chest.

"Whoa there little doll, don't hurt yourself," the strongest New York accent I've heard tonight comes from this enormous rouged and powdered drag queen, but his - her? tone and eyes are gentle as she strokes down my hair. "No cause to fuss, we get that a lot. Pretty little thing like you, surely you understand."

"I -" as I think for a moment and recognise the blur in my eyes as tears, that's fuckin' great, Roger's sensitive, look at that - I do know what she means when I get called various crude names. Not so much as Freddie... Oh, Fred. I hiccup a bit and swallow hard. There's a big handkerchief suddenly dabbing at my face, not smearing the makeup, which is clucked over as being quite good and moisture proof. I'm about to say it's because of how much I sweat during the course of a show, but I'm working in incognito fashion of a sort, and my main purpose is to find Freddie. So "I think I do," I answer. "And I've got a mate who definitely does, he's - he comes round here a lot, and I'm looking for him. D'you think -?"

"Oh little bird, let me take you under my wings and help you find your friend" arms expand as if to envelop me. "I'm Scarlett, and this is Chantelle."

Chantelle has been clacking a heel on the asphalt and says "Come on Scar, let's go, we've got a show to do, remember - we don't have time for you to pick up every waif on the street who's got a sob story."

Sob story?! That's the last thing Freddie is! I bare my teeth again, ready to tell her she's got no idea what she's talking about, but Scarlett pats me on the shoulder and flips her hand at the other.

"Now don't be such a bitch, Channie, dear. I wasn't born yesterday." Cocking a perfectly painted brow at me "What's this friend's name, darling, and where might they be?"

I'm struck at their use of some of the epithets Freddie does, and clear my throat at the fact that the last things we shouted at each other today weren't nearly so tender. Fuck me. "I - his name is Freddie," I say. "He may go...by Melina round here, and his favourite spot is called the Shaft." I stop and hope, half convinced John doesn't actually know, or told me the wrong name, but these two look at one another and Chantelle nods. The tiniest movement but it's responded to by Scarlett with an arm thrown around me.

"Oh what a stroke of luck, we're going there and you'll get to see our show!" She seems so excited and girlish that I can't help but be excited for her. Chantelle is much more serene and stately, but seems to accept my company if grudgingly. "Come right along," and Scarlett asks me "Oh! I almost forgot, what do you go by, dear?"

I almost tell them I'm Roger Taylor, but that isn't what I'm about tonight, I don't need any fans or photos circling round me dressed like this. My whole object is to keep Freddie safe. So I put out my hand to be taken in hers - she's got such long colourful nails, Freddie would be so jealous - and say "You c'n call me Liz."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scarlett and Chantelle are names I use with love, from people I knew doing drag work during university. I was able to watch many drag shows and am taken by their artistry, skill, and the fun everyone is having :) next to that, typical nightclubs are incredibly boring!
> 
> Well now Liz is on the way to find Melina!
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	5. Chapter 5

Lights are up outside this dark as pitch place, haloes of neon that engulf the sides of the building that expel the barest thumping of bass. Better soundproofing here than we've ever had even in studio, I think. "We wouldn't know there's a drag show tonight if it wasn't for the neon, little Lizzy," Scarlett tells me with arm around my shoulders. Has taken a shine to me, says I've got spunk - whereas Chantelle's begrudging acceptance of me coming with them stems solely from the way I swore at that cabdriver (Scarlett says something to that effect). Chantelle probably doesn't believe I actually have a mate inside - though who in hell knows what she thinks I would be playing at if I don't - and I admit to being a trifle curious about this neon signage. 

About all this in particular, really. Fred's never really asked us if we wanted to join him here or at any other leather bar he goes to; think he assumes it wouldn't be our scene, or he's nervous, or something. Even though all of us accept who he is completely, I think Bri might have a bit of fish out of water moment if he were to come. Me, I'm interested. Wouldn't matter mostly since Freddie never suggests I come, but tonight I'm doing it anyway.

"So what you're saying," I reply to Scarlett, "is there are sort of - messages round that only the people who know can understand, like."

"Right on, honey. We get tossed around and yelled at and cussed out all the livelong day by people that don't understand us, but this is a place of acceptance and sweet love where we are free to be ourselves."

"No judgement." Chantelle has joined our conversation and plants herself in my space, right in front of me, staring me down. "You come in here, it isn't to judge, you understand? I mean it, Scarlett," as the other makes small pacifying noises. "As far as I'm concerned at this point you're just a boy in a dress out at night for a few laughs. Til I clap eyes on your friend I know nothing different, but youse won't set a foot inside if you're here to mock us." 

She snarls the last and Scarlett begs, hand on her arm with those magnificent nails "Chantilly, please."

"Scarlett, I'm serious. Don't call me that right now, this is a non-negotiable thing."

I look at the pair of them, so vibrant, solid in who they are - Chantelle is guarding the bloody door to protect the way they live, and Scarlett is sweet and downright triumphant when she talks about this place, where people go who want to break free from the rubbish society thinks, fucking bastards. I respect the hell out of that stance and sentiment and whatnot, but I'll also be damned if anyone or anything is keeping me from Freddie.

So "You're right, Chantelle," I say. "I'm a boy in a dress - or a skirt, rather - most definitively, compared to you." I look at them both and decide to add "My name is Roger, if you need to know, but my mate Freddie DOES come here, he IS in there, and I'm here to support and protect him, which I shouldn't have to fucking explain to anyone because it's his life, but he's gentle and brilliant and kind and full of love yet he can't find a fucking decent bloke and I-" I stop there, chest heaving and heart pounding more madly than it does during any gig, and I know I've probably said something offensive or uncouth and neither one of them want to hear this, really, but I burst out "I'm here for him, and if you think you're going to stand out here and keep me from my dearest Freddie, you've got another fucking think coming."

I stare at her then, my chest still heaving, and I see her face change. Just the smallest bit, and she's blurry round the edges so I'm not even certain that I've seen it, but there is in fact a look that could be one of respect before she says "All right then" and steps aside to knock on and open the door, and we are admitted in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roger may not know what he's doing but he's still doing alright, going to get Freddie and be there for him - don't stop him now! ;)
> 
> I hope the sentiments here are respectful, the way society treated (and still treats) people who aren't heterosexual, especially during the seventies and eighties ...ugh I have no words for how infuriating it is. Makes me feel sick, to be honest. So I fully understand the point of view Chantelle has. Scarlett is just so happy to have a place and spread joy, and Roger's response is "that's great, honestly, but where's Freddie?"
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger in the Shaft
> 
> ***WARNING for drug use, non-explicit sexual relations, AND abusive relations/dubious consent discussed below. Possible triggers, I'm not entirely sure so just read responsibly
> 
> POV third person

Roger isn't certain what he expects going into the Shaft (or the Mineshaft as he'd realised Shaft was a nickname so to speak) but whatever he expected, this isn't it. 

There is a stage, for one, and lights shining on it almost in the exact layout of a typical stage for a music gig, swooping up and down the way the crew makes 'em do before a show. Only difference being here there are no instruments, and the crew seems to be made up of a lot of blokes without shirts and wearing tight shiny leather halters and pants - not trousers, pants, like little leather undershorts, though certain parts of their anatomy are either big or ... enhanced to appear that way. As soon as his eyes adjust to the varying light, including flashes of what look like as much glitter and sparkle as he and Freddie have on their brightest costumes, Roger is craning his neck to search for Fred. Expecting to find him either astride the stage itself or very close by, he's stymied for a second not to see his friend. But it takes that single second to recall the private part of Freddie, that soft shyness he possesses; and he catches Scarlett by the sleeve. "Where would someone go for a bit of quiet?" He asks. Chantelle snorts in disbelief.

"Quiet, he says. As if there's such a place."

Scarlett tsks. "Come on, Chantelle, I know what he means. Well sugar, there are certainly places where one could get a little more of an... intimate experience," she beckons, her huge hooped earrings swinging as she curls one hand around Roger's shoulders. "Let me show you the back room."

The back room, as it happens, is also more of a corridor, or has one attached, as well as a staircase curving round to lead someplace they'll have to potentially check out later. People are entwined in various and sundry poses that leave little to nothing to the imagination. Some are very obvious about what they are doing, others less so; and it's not solely sexual encounters Roger comes across. He clearly spies smoking, and then a pair is ducking down to inhale over a table, snorting something - if he had to guess, cocaine. Roger's heart thuds as his biological trained mind goes into the known factors of drug use. He's used a bit himself, but hopefully not to excess, and he hopes Freddie hasn't been doing so here. 

He doesn't know what he's looking for at this juncture; there is so much he's seeing that he honestly might understand a bit of what Brian felt the times he'd walked in on Roger with someone. What is inherently private is here made public, as if relishing in the delight of sexuality is something that cannot be enjoyed by just those engaged in acts together, but shared amongst other people. Brian would probably consider this voyeuristic, Roger is simply shocked. And impressed that people are so open. He does find doors to smaller spaces. Scarlett says they're for if one fancies a bit of privacy. She is going through the room in a manner that is almost mother like, telling people to replenish fluids and use protection, and stroking sweaty hair back from the face of one young man "Just have your cherry popped? Well done!"

Roger has no more than a second to contemplate that when he hears a rougher sound. A snarl, or a shout, and then a response that he's surprised he hears, to be honest, there are a lot of noises going on, but not only does Roger hear it, but the sound is familiar. And in distress. Coming from a smaller room. He runs for it, hearing a deep "--said you wanted a private spot, and now you won't do it for me, huh? What if I make you?!"

"I'd really rather you didn't," Freddie's voice. It's Fred, and he's trying not to whimper. "Please, I need a moment, it's just a bit much."

"Much? I'll give you much!" And there's sound, and Fred's gasping with what sounds like pain, and Roger doesn't stop to think but slams full-bore into the door, crashing through it to see an enormous burly sort with Freddie on his knees, body bent and the bastard's hand is squeezing the back of Fred's neck as if he's a naughty cat. There are bruises, or something, and he's showing - and of course neither of Freddie's 'friends' are here to help him. Probably made themselves scarce soon as this bloke found him. Roger doesn't stop moving, he charges straight at the man and kicks him right in his show, and as the sparkling Converse connects that heavy hand lets go and Roger is wrapping himself around his friend and moving him, practically carrying Fred away with the force of his headlong rush; and he doesn't realise he was roaring in fury until he hears a roaring leave his ears. Feels Freddie's shudders and looks down, sees those eyes full of shock and horror and fear and shame, mixed with some other emotion Roger cannot think to name as Scarlett tries to shoo people out and pick up the burly man who spits something at her and swings back round to Roger.

"Who the fuck d'you think you are, huh?!" Now he's roaring, spittle flying. Big hulking macho man with an ugly look in his eye, squaring up against slight strong Roger with his long hair and his short skirt, feet braced on either side of Freddie as he spins and looks up. "That one's mine," the huge man growls.

Roger's eyes flash murderous. "He doesn't fucking BELONG to you," high voice a cold snap. "And you're not going to take advantage of him. Not on my watch."

There's a sneer and a "Look at that, this one needs protection from a little _bitch,_ " and with a look of contempt, he actually spits beside Roger and Freddie. "Good riddance. Saved me from a lousy time anyway."

Roger's nostrils flare then, and with an "Oi, wanker!" He moves and in a whirlwind punches the bloke whilst kneeing him in the diaphragm. The bloke gasps and doubles over, getting Roger's sturdy knuckles along his cheek into his eye, and is advised to leave by Scarlett pushing herself between them.

"You'd better get gone, honey," she says between clenched teeth, staring down, nails clicking as she folds her arms across her chest. "I were you I'd find someplace else to be tonight." The man glowers but leaves, puffing up to ensure they all know how big a man he is, but he slinks off and Scarlett calls out for good measure "Roxy, Bob, be dears and get that filth out of this establishment, would you? This is a place for love and we have no need for the likes of him, mph."

Roger would have a mind to go after the bastard, except Fred's still here curled up on the floor, and he is shaking.

"Freddie," crouching down, fingertips barely touching his friend's shuddering shoulder, Roger gets a lump in his throat and feels tears prickle his eyes. Freddie looks so small, so fragile and young and lost, though he's one of the strongest people Roger knows. "Come on, let's get you up, mate."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well Roger has found Freddie. 
> 
> I do not intend to insinuate that gay bars in general are like this, as I hope is showcased by Scarlett's reaction. 
> 
> I think situations can go sideways quickly anywhere when people are jerks and don't consider that consent can be retracted AT ANY TIME. No always, always means no. Roger understands that as does Scarlett, and they're here to protect Freddie.
> 
> I hope this wasn't too much, but I needed to show it all so had it in 3rd person POV. What do you think?
> 
> Comments/reactions appreciated <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger with Fred, back to first person

Freddie's eyes are piteous, but nevertheless he pulls away from me, seemingly in betrayal. "I thought you didn't even want me to be out tonight," his voice is flat as he smacks his lips and speaks at last despite their twitching and trembling. "Oh look, Roger's right. Is that what you want me to say, dear?"

I suck in air and close my eyes a moment. He still doesn't fucking understand. I never wanted to be right about fucking worrying for him. Eyes opening again I snap "No, you pillock, I just didn't want you to come alone!" I curl my hands around his upper arms now and gently lift him up, helping him to a seat that Scarlett brings - cheers, Scarlett. 

I crouch in front of the chair, moving my hands over Freddie, checking for anything like a physical wound besides the bruises I've already seen that make me want to throw up. "I just - I don't want you going off with anyone else, Fred. Certainly no one like -" I grind my teeth and swallow bile at the thought of the bastard who just left. What he could have done, unchecked... "Like that."

Freddie has bowed his head almost into my shoulder, but not quite. His musical voice is barely more than a murmur as he responds "Oh it's nothing I haven't dealt with before, Blondie darling," and I'm too distracted by the words he says to take in the fact that his tone is sweet again, as if he has already forgiven me for being so shitty to him earlier. 

"Oh, shit, Fred -" I pull his head the rest of the way onto my shoulder, or rather I press myself into him, arms wrapping round his back as I bury my face in his soft thick black hair. I'm nearly shaking as well now, in fury and sorrow because fuck whoever has made Freddie feel like this before. "You should never have to fucking deal with anything like that," I say into his hair and the warm skin of his neck, my lips ghosting over it as though I can physically make my words sink in. "You know that, yeah?" I rub his back with all the callouses on my fingers and palms from drumming probably feeling bloody rough on his smooth skin. But I can't help it, I just want to touch him and keep him safe, make him feel secure and good and loved. 

Freddie chokes on what sounds like a sob and I feel his hands clutch me back as his face presses into the cloth of my - of Brian's - shirt. "But of course I know, darling," he tries to play it off as if he's abundantly certain, but I withdraw my face to look into his eyes and see that he doesn't believe me. Tears track silently down his face even as he sucks at his teeth and offhandedly says "I've just got to give myself in order to find somebody to love."

My heart feels like it drops into my feet. "For fuck's sake, Freddie, no," I feel myself ready to start shouting or shaking him repeatedly, but that won't fucking help, Roger, calm down. I give him one sharp shake of the shoulders as I snap "You don't have to fucking let yourself be used or hurt or - or do anything you don't want to do."

"Your friend is right, sugar," says Scarlett, who I honestly forgot was still here, listening. Apparently she'd either gone out for a moment or found some other way, because she's handing a bottle of water over to us as she says something to Freddie that belts me: "This life hurts us enough without us causing any more pain to ourselves." 

Freddie's eyes flicker as he accepts the water from her as she's stepped up to him. Curls her large hand around his face in such a motherly gesture that I have to clear my throat in order to tell her "Wow, Scarlett, that's fucking profound."

Freddie snorts into the water as he opens and drinks it. I've let go of him mostly, only holding onto his shoulder with one hand, thumb rubbing circles on his skin. Scarlett is unfazed and simply says "I've got a lot of those up here," tapping the side of her head. "Now you two take a minute, long as you need, but I want to see you out here shaking it during Channie's and my performance, all right?" She slaps me on the back and adds "We might even have to make a spot for you, Lizzy darling. This proves you're not just a boy in a dress." 

As she smiles and almost floats out the door before closing it for us, I hear Freddie make a sound of surprise, as if he hasn't noticed til now what I've been wearing this entire time. 

"What _are_ you doing in a skirt and hose, Roger darling?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Freddie's dealing and has dealt with so much, but his mate is here for him. Thank goodness for Rog and his vehement loyal love
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	8. Chapter 8

I shrug. "I wanted to wear 'em. Just lucky it was drag night," I wink as I rise and take Freddie by the hands, pulling him up to stand in front of me. I sway my hips a bit and twirl myself in a circle for him cheekily. "What d'you think?"

He smiles, his hands going to encircle my waist automatically. "I think you wear that skirt fantastically, Liz dear," he pushes back my makeshift headband as it's fallen forward a bit. Gently reaches out and strokes my cheek. "But you'll always be my Roger."

I catch hold of his hand and want so badly to ask him, _Isn't that enough, then? If you want somebody to love you, I'm here. Brian's here, Deacy is here._ Well neither of them are physically at the moment, of course, but I have no doubt Brian is wide-awake at the hotel biting his nails and worrying for us, and I know that John is too in his quieter way, even if he's managed to sleep. If we aren't back, he'll wake up worried. I know that's not exactly what Freddie wants, but hell. I'd do anything for him, including beating the shit out of everyone who's ever hurt or will ever try to hurt him. This wonderful man. 

My jaw is clenching and my eyes must be blazing with fury because Fred strokes my cheek again and soothes "It's alright, my darling."

 _But it isn't, Fred. Not unless I can stop people from hurting you - or keep you from thinking it's fucking okay to LET someone hurt you -_ "Freddie," I want to ask what he would have done if I hadn't come bursting in even though I'm horribly afraid I know the answer, but I hear the beginnings of music and a voice asking everyone to make some noise for the queens coming out onstage tonight, and I want that for Fred instead of asking him something to make him unhappy. I want him to be able to go out on that stage and show these people how wonderful he is. Mostly I want him to feel loved. I can give him this. At the very least I can give him a good time.

So I tug his hand down to hold on and smile my brightest. Even bat my eyelashes a little, because ah, what the hell. "C'mon Fred, let's go out there like the queens WE are." 

He looks at me, and for a split second I wonder if he will, but light comes into his rich brown eyes as he gazes into mine with so much love - just as much as I hope he sees looking back at him, damn it - before squeezing my hand.

"Let's fucking do it, darling."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this story can end here, what do you think?
> 
> EDIT: well I've gotten an idea for the show, so there'll be a few more chapters to go
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A development.during the drag show
> 
> Mild panic attack suffered below

Bass is thumping and disco is starting, and all the back room is practically vacant as everyone crowds into the front to see the stage. The MC is a willowy person with spiked up hair and heavy makeup round the eyes, who waves at the crowd and speaks with a prominent drawl that lets us know he's likely from the American South. "Now y'all better be ready to make some noise," he says "Because this is a treat okay and these fabulous people won't come around again if we don't show them any love. Tips are welcome, just hold them up, but this isn't a strip show so hold your horses, fellas, and don't handle the merchandise." Zeroes in on some lads at the front who yell back something about handling him instead, and he smacks his lips and raises perfect eyebrows - what the fuck is it with the grooming on practically everyone? It's outstanding - and he says "Well y'all are crazy. Hush," and quick as a wink he mouths something that Freddie tells me, breath warm on my ear as he curls his hand around my shoulder, is the MC will see them later. "Alright, now without further ado here's our first act hailing from Brooklyn, you'll see stars, it's our Supersized Soldier Sammie!" 

He's off and some weird armed forces music comes on as this little bloke wearing what looks like fatigues (I dunno exactly what the American army protocol is but I think this is far too tight and showing too much skin for them.) Not to mention he's got an enlarged - "Got to be wearing a codpiece, what the shit," I hiss at Freddie, who waggles his brows at me.

"Who knows, darling, he may be just that well endowed."

"...Hang on, though, I thought this was a drag show?"

"Well -" Fred doesn't say anything else because suddenly the song shifts and this soldier is doing some serious thrusting and twirling all over the stage. Big clunky boots and all, and keeps taking off his cap to accept tips. 

We move a little closer, which is good so I can see and also because, well fuck it, I'm intrigued - and I realise as twirling towards us that this little bloke - who's grinding himself along the stage now, holy fuck - is in fact a very skinny girl with short hair, shorter than Fred's, it's barely to her ears. She's thin but built and has done something to hide her breasts, and then the swagger of confidence she's got seems so masculine I forget she's a woman.

There are whistles as the song ends and the MC comes back up to wave a card around. "Whoo there, God bless the US army!" He says. "I forgot to tell y'all we have some drag kings with us today, which includes our fabulous Sammie here, so do make some noise...," A roar goes up again and waving the card "Down, boys, down! Okay our acts are allowed to mingle with you lot when their performances are done, but don't anybody get cute or get it on without permission." A hard stare.

"Where was this bloke when you were in the back earlier?" I hiss and look to find Freddie making a sort of gasping, gulping noise. Instantly I reach out to him. "Freddie?"

His throat is clicking as he tries to wave me off, and his breaths are fast and shallow as if he's having an attack. "Whoa, mate, I'm here. Let's siddown." I take his arm and probably roughly shove through to look for a chair somewhere. 

Couple people whirl round but see me and Fred and are concerned, asking if he's okay and upon my grunt that he needs to sit, five pairs of hands pull us near the front where there are tables and chairs alongside the stage in the darkness. Music has begun and another act is going to some ridiculous thumping disco beat, which puts us solidly in the uninteresting camp, I would think, but a few moments later one of the fellows round comes back with shots. "Scotch, neat. After he's breathing right it'll warm his throat and all." 

"You've got scotch here?" I dunno why I'm surprised; I guess I hadn't thought of anyone being the sort to afford it, though that's idiotic, really; no one's come up and asked if we're rockstars yet but we could buy a packet. "Well damn," I try to play it off, hand around Fred's shoulders as I murmur for him to breathe slowly, out and in. "He's more into vodka, but this'll do. Cheers, mate." And I remember, "What do I owe?"

"Nah," bloke waves my shift to get my wallet away. "Nothin, looked like he could use it - and so could you, I'm being honest. I'm in the stock market, I can afford it." Pats my shoulder. "May want to get him some food later, but for now relax, watch the show. It's a good one," he waves at a group of blokes and unless I'm mistaken, girls who aren't dressed in drag. "... we've been comin' every week they're here." He nods to us, leans and says to Freddie "Feel better, buddy," before walking back over to his mates. 

I rub Freddie's back between his shoulders as I feel his breathing slowly start to ease and hand over the scotch. "Down the hatch," I lift my shot and clink it against his. "Cheers." I gulp, he drinks and then coughs, his breathing definitely back as he blurts

"Oh, I need vodka, that was - absolutely _ghastly!_ " 

"Got your breathing back didn't it?" I put my hand to my chest. "It is warm." Like all the flavour too, not so uniform as bourbon, not sweet like rum. Multifaceted taste, but Freddie doesn't see that, he's just gasping in dramatic fashion and I'm relieved a bit because at least he's back to himself. I've half a mind to ask what the fuck was that attack about, but don't want to start it up again by asking. So all I do is shift my chair next to his and wrap my arm around him, holding him to me as we watch what really is a fabulous show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Freddie's having trouble with what he experienced, but he'll be all right :)
> 
> Drag names (in my experience) typically are either puns or raunchy, or both. And there indeed are drag kings - with ingenious forms of physical expression
> 
> Next chapter is Scarlett and Chantelle's number, ooh
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	10. Chapter 10

Freddie's face is flushed as he sits next to me, and his eyes keep darting away. Can tell he's embarrassed about the attack and I want to tell him it's alright, that I'm here, but he knows that second part for sure as I've got a grip on his side now that's ironclad and I'm not fucking moving for anything. I lean my head on his shoulder instead, and after a moment I feel the weight of his cheek settle against my hair.

The show goes on and there are some pretty stellar acts, specially one where boots are worn with heels on them that'd put all of John's to shame. Wish Bri was here with his camera for that one, and then the MC is back with "Well y'all may find this a little unusual, but the members of our next act want to introduce it themselves. So let's give a big Mineshaft welcome to Scarlett Handshoff and Chantilly Lace!" 

Cheers including mine rise up as Scarlett sashays out wearing a big dress of a dark rich red and plum colour that sets off the tones of her skin, and Chantelle's outfit is a slim cut pale green and teal pantsuit, I think, but she's rouged up with big hair and makeup and eyelashes. Scarlett takes the microphone and kisses the MC on both cheeks. He does the same to her and to Chantelle before standing off. "Well hello," her voice is sultry and rich, I hadn't realised - "This is one of our favourite songs, and it tells a story of how hard it is to find and hold onto what is good for us sometimes." She breathes into the mic and adds "Different touch from our typical but we hope you enjoy it, beautiful people." Freddie's head goes up at that, and I squeeze his side as I let out a whoop. Chantelle inclines her head and I think - can't be wholly positive due to the lights, not to mention the fact my eyes are shit - that Scarlett sees me with Fred and blows a kiss to us. Anyhow she hands the mic back over to the MC before striding to stand, hands folded and head down, at the centre of the stage.

Chantelle slowly walks right behind her as an incredibly familiar guitar sound quietly begins and then rises through the room. People begin to clap to its beat and Scarlett snaps open her eyes and mouths words.

 _"You say you love me - and I hardly know your name,"_ pointing the toes of one foot she sways her hips back and forth and spins, taking Chantelle's hand and bending her backwards for _"...and if I saaay I love ya in the candle light, there's no one but myself to blame. But there's something insiiiide that's turning my mind away!"_ both turn from each other and hit a pose, sing, pose _"Whoaaaa oh how I could love you, if I could let you stay."_ They stomp, stomp, and Scarlett rips off her enormous skirt to show trousers of her own as drums come in and I can't help singing along with my own falsetto.

_It's late - when I'm bleeding deep inside - it's late ooooh, is it just my sickly pride?! Too late, even now the feeling seems to steal away; so late - though I'm crying I can't help but hear you say, it's late, it's late, it's late, but not too late!_

The crowd sways along and claps in rhythm now, some people yelling "ow!" As the two queens' dance moves get simultaneously more sultry but seem more desperate. They're playing out Brian's words that ache with Freddie's voice and I look at him to see his eyes shining, lips puckering as tears pour freely, silently down his cheeks.

Could be from the dance, which is actually like a silent film or something, interpreting the emotions of the song in a way I'm sure Freddie loves as he loves ballet, but also, though I like a good cynical lyric as much as anyone, right here and now especially, this one hits. (Damn it, Brian - you and your woes). Goes through the whole thing saying it's not too late, and then

 _"What's this that you're saying? I know that I can't reply. If I take you tonight, is it making my life a lie?"_ they turn and stand so still, and there seems to be real heartbreak in both pairs of eyes. It makes my heart thump heavily. _"Ohhh, you make me wonder - did I live my life right?"_ It's like the entire audience is frozen now, before the stomp stomp. _"It's late, Ooh, but it's time to set me free - it's late - ooh yes, I know, but there's no way it has to be! (Too late) So let the fire take our bodies this night, so late, let the waters take our guilt in the tide, now it's late, it's late, it's late, it's late... It's late, it's late, it's late. Oh, it's all too late. Whoa, oh, it's too late, come on."_

The last strains of Brian's guitar take us all out with the outro, and for the first time after a performance in this show so far, there is silence. No one instantly cheers. Chantelle and Scarlett end on opposite ends of the stage, reaching out but not making it back to one another, and Freddie lets out a wrenching sob. I dunno what possesses me but his face in the half-light, that horrid sorrow in his eyes, tear tracks down his cheeks, I take hold of him and turn him to me, holding his soft face in my rough hands. Wipe a bit of water from one cheek as best I can. _It's not too late._ "I love you, Freddie," I say into the silence. Not certain how loud my voice is, as it's shaking a bit, bollocks. But I'm certain that I've got to reach him, and to say this now, right now. "Always have, and always will." 

Fred looks shocked, something sparks in his eyes that shines through the morose look in the depths of them, and he half-sobs my name as he lunges almost totally out of his chair and buries himself in my arms. I hold him tightly and press kisses to his face, and I guess that somehow breaks the silence because there are wolf-whistles and ebullient cheers for the performance. 

Scarlett and Chantelle are probably beaming and bowing, but neither of us notice as I hang on to my dearest friend in all the world, swearing to myself that I will do anything and everything to make his life bright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *"Chantilly Lace" was the name of a song by the late Big Bopper, it was a hit in the late fifties in America
> 
> This story is happening in 1978, because "It's Late" was on their '77 album. I love this song, it's one of my favourites and really sticks in my head. Freddie's vocal tone is incredible anyway but this song... For me it has always been particularly mesmerising. Here's a link to a version with the lyrics: https://youtu.be/kjkDoU0fxog
> 
> I'm hoping I did these two performers justice as I can see their movements to the tune of Brian's song so clearly in my head.
> 
> Dear Roger is so aware of Freddie's pain and wants his friend to know he loves him
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	11. Chapter 11

I can tell it is about time for us to go not long later; Freddie is swaying back and forth a little, not meeting my eyes. If he had his longer hair I could push it behind his ears and knead his shoulders, but he's clenching up a bit. I wonder if there's something else that happened, some hurt he'd gotten from that waste of space we ran off - that I hadn't seen and Fred hadn't indicated. But as the duo of drag queens come bustling over to us and Scarlett says "Come here, baby," immediately wrapping her arms around Freddie in a motherly manner, the way he sags into her embrace instantly tells me he's exhausted. In mind and body, probably. Not to mention emotionally, and I closely watch as Scarlett murmurs something to him as Chantelle watches me. She seems to be taking me in, and I've the urge to snap at her. To tell her I wasn't here to mock or make fun, see? 

But as she continues watching me I can't help but blurt "What you did with that song, it was really bloody good."

Her chin rises and something relaxes in that stern face. I wonder if she'll smile, but instead she nods and says "Thank you, that means much coming from someone who's played it," and I whip my head round, ready and raring to ask hold the bloody phone, how does she know me? Would I be the only Roger that comes to this place? But something in her face reminds me I'm not here as a musician tonight. I've fulfilled my purpose of being with my friend. So I click my tongue and nod, shooting her a wink for good measure, to which she sighs and appears as though she wishes she hadn't complimented me. As that is what she had been doing after I complimented her. 

Before I can do more than open my mouth to potentially tease her, my body is engulfed by Scarlett, who tells me I've done well. "Go on and fly, little bird," cupping my cheek in her hand, she says. "You've discovered the secret."

"Which is what?" I ask, and then "...Does it mean I can come back...?"

"Oh honey, anytime!" She waves her other hand at me before pursing her lips and seriously adding "...You show love, unconditional. You don't just accept, but you nurture. And that," she lifts her hand from my face as if blessing me "That's the key to living in this world, baby." She smiles at me and Freddie beside me, as he's moved to curl his arm around my waist. I automatically rest mine across his shoulders. Scarlett claps her hands together and swallows, blinking rapidly and waving her hands in front of her face. "Oh I'm so happy I could cry," she sniffs.

Chantelle lays a handkerchief on her arm with a fond little head shake as she stands with Scarlett, looking at us with what seems like pride, almost. Nods to us, at least. Freddie thanks them, "You were absolutely astounding," he says, and Scarlett giggles like a wee girl before calling for Bob to get a cab for us. Waves off protests (because no matter how tired Freddie is, he wants to do things for other people and has the worst time letting his goodness come around).

"Give it a rest, Fred," I squeeze his arm and nod to the pair. "Thank you. Both," I add as Chantelle clearly tells Bob to put the fare on her outstanding tab. 

"It's our pleasure, really. We always take cabs back through the city," Scarlett informs me. "Never know who'll be hanging around."

"No matter who they are, I'd take Liz here with me," Chantelle adds quietly, and for once I haven't a thing to say as they wave and blow kisses goodbye after walking us to the door. 

The blown kisses are from Scarlett who then sniffles again and waves her handkerchief after, telling us to come back anytime we're in town, preferably soon. At least til Chantelle snatches the cloth from her and says she's being ridiculous. That sharpness puts me in mind of Brian, and I laugh. Fred does too as we get into the car that has just pulled up - no creeping cabbie this time, the queens know this one - and I settle back in the seat next to Fred as he curls close to me like a cat seeking warmth. I shift so his head can lie comfortably across my lap as I tell the cabbie the name of our hotel. 

"Have a good time tonight?" He asks over his shoulder as we head on.

I look at Fred, who in turn gazes up at me. He takes my hand and kisses it, and I hear myself say "It was really something."

"Something we shall always remember," Freddie adds, sitting up now to rest his head upon my shoulder as our fingers link and lace together. And then so softly into my hair, speaking solely to me, he finishes with tone audibly saturated in emotion "I love you, Roger dear."

I close my eyes and hold his hand all the tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh I loved writing Scarlett and Chantelle so much, I hope you've liked them as well :)  
> And a nice cabdriver! Yay!
> 
> One more chapter now that Freddie and Roger are comfortably curled up together. How will Bri and Deaks react to the length of time they've been gone...?
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at the hotel
> 
> POV third person

Back at the hotel, Brian is waiting.

They haven't been sharing rooms nearly as much on tour lately, everyone's got their own space, which usually seems to work for Freddie because he traipses in at all hours, and Roger oftentimes brings girls home. But it's never been good for Brian to be alone with his thoughts, especially at night when his mind keeps churning and turning and whirling so he does not sleep. Doesn't sleep much anyhow, there's always something to wonder or worry about. Yet this, what he's currently fretting over is a very real concern. This night Freddie had gone off in high dudgeon over Roger's well-intentioned but poorly expressed fury. Rog has the tendency to spit out things he ought to think out rather than simply say, and now he's out there running round New York City dressed like a pretty little girl...

Brian expels a frustrated noise and jerks his fingers through his hair, tugging the curls and trying to flatten them some way, an impossible task he often gives himself in a futile attempt to stop thinking. Of course it doesn't work and he's up pacing, again, hands initially jammed into his pockets and then tapping beats on his legs, and then he takes his dear guitar out and is trying to strum chords, but it's late, it's so fucking late and they should be back by now -

A knock on the door makes his head shoot up and interrupts the spiral of worry his mind has gotten into. It's stacatto, sharp and short and polite, no dramatic riffing or a pealing call from Freddie, no effusive banging from Roger. No, this is John, standing with his bass slung over his shoulder and two mugs in his hands. He cocks a brow at Brian, face crinkling. "Can't sleep? I'm shocked," he deadpans, and holds out a mug. "It's tea," he adds when Brian looks at it. "With honey. Chamomile. Figure you could use some. Well, we both might could. Erm." Shuffling a little on his feet waiting for Brian to take the cup, grey-green eyes look into dark hazel and he asks without words

"Oh!" Brian takes the mug and beckons John inside, stepping back. "Please, come in, Deacy." 

John's nod is almost like a bow as he says "thanks" and enters, looking round at Brian's room. It pretty much mirrors his own across the hall, but, well, now he's here with someone this is better.

The room already feels warmer, Brian thinks as he quietly closes the door and walks to the bed, moving coats and costumes he'd taken out of his closet to rearrange for something to do. Scooping all into his lengthy hands he hangs them back, having first put down his cup, and knowing not where he'd laid it. John, ducking out of his bass strap, leans the instrument against the little table leg across from Bri's bed and nods to the table itself. "Bri, here." Brian looks and sees the mug, lopes over to grab it, a flush darkening his cheeks from embarrassment as again he accepts the offered cup of tea from Deacy.

He plops onto the bed and carefully encircles the mug with both hands, fluttering his fingers a bit as he hadn't realised just how much he'd been clenching them. Brian sips his tea and groans, half in enjoyment and also in pain as always the first sip is the one that burns one's tongue, no matter how cool it has gotten. He presses the back of his hand to his lips and swallows, and John's face is concerned until Bri waves with a quiet "I'm fine, John."

The bassist nods silently and sips his own tea. Quiet is only broken by the ticking of the clock and a grumbling from his stomach that makes Brian curl in on himself with embarrassment. He hadn't eaten much, or any, food after they'd come back, though he said he would. If Roger was here he'd have sworn until he got Brian to eat, or sweet Freddie would have cooed and cluckingly mothered him til he had something. But now it's John, who has drunk about half his tea and fiddles with some change in his pocket. "I'll go down and see if - there's been a call or something," he says, standing up. "You - haven't heard from either of them, have you?"

Brian feels as if a giant hand has squeezed his heart. He gasps a bit for breath and shakes his head. "No, I haven't." _Where could they be? It's been hours since they'd gone._

"Right." John goes to the door, straightening his jacket. He hasn't even prepared for bed yet, Brian realises. Has his shoes still on and everything. "I'll be back. Open the door for me, yeah?" His soulful gaze locks on Brian's. "They'll be back," he says. Quite convincingly, Brian thinks, if it weren't for the instant shove of his hands under his armpits, as though he's hugging himself for reassurance. Lifts his chin, though, as he adds "We know Rog, no matter where he goes off to, he makes it back fine."

Brian snorts. _What about Freddie?_ he almost asks, but holds his tongue. He isn't sure how much John knows about what Freddie does. He doesn't even know that much, but when Fred returns obviously sore or with bruises or torn clothes, looking like he hasn't slept in a dog's age, Brian worries. Roger does too, which is why he'd gone after Fred tonight. Yet their drummer does always return in one piece.... "You're right," he says with a nod and attempt to smile, shooting John a swift thumbs-up. "They'll be back."

He just knows that he's going to be awake for the entire night.

***

It's very late, or rather, extremely early when Roger hauls a nearly-sleeping Freddie out of their cab. He attempts to pay the fare, even though Scarlett and Chantelle had taken care of all of it, and settles for giving the cabbie a large tip before hauling Fred against him and walking into the lobby and past the humming vending machine down the hallway to the lift. 

Leans on the button for the door as Freddie lolls and mumbles in his sleepy state, til the bell's ding as the doors open causes his eyes to flutter open and makes it a mite easier for Roger to get them inside. The rise to their floor has Fred nearly out again. Roger doesn't blame him; it's been a helluva night. He tries to haul his room key out of his pocket, but Fred's half-buried in his coat and the leather skirt he's in is slippery besides. So the key jangles to the floor and Roger cannot stop a sharply-uttered "fuck!" From escaping him. He's debating on laying Freddie down or ducking to grab the key in his teeth when a door opens to showcase a fluffy head of onyx hair. Brian.

***

John had come back up and said there were no calls, but he also handed Brian a crisp packet and a candy bar from the vending machine in the lobby. Brian offered crisps back and they shared the bag before Bri washed his hands and got ready for bed. There was an unspoken agreement that John would stay the night; he shucked off his trousers, shoes, and jacket before hesitantly climbing into bed as Brian bids him. Brings his bass, and they jam a little, quietly so as not to put their neighbours out; and then John drops off to sleep, leaving Bri to sit beside him or alternatively pace around the room. He is by the door when he hears a clatter and an expletive, and his heart leaps as he instantly recognises the voice of Roger. 

Door's open and his arms are full of Freddie immediately, breath hitching as he looks into Roger's eyes and sees... something. Something that makes him feel cold. "Roger -" he wants to ask what happened, but Roger's terse headshake and clear indication that they'll talk about it later makes Bri nod and haul Freddie completely into his arms. He holds open the door for Rog and the drummer comes in slowly, for him, after stooping and retrieving his key. He unbuttons his shirt, well, Brian's shirt as if on autopilot, stopping to drop it on a chair and then unlace his shoes.

Brian carries Freddie to the bed and lays him next to John, who cuddles close to Freddie in his sleep, making a high little sound. Fred's arm goes around John's back and they both are out for the count, leaving Brian to focus on Roger.

He's frozen staring at his shoes, and Brian hesitates before crouching down beside him and reaching out a hand. "Rog?" He whispers, and Roger looks at him, eyes bleary and full of feeling. Brian's chest is aching as he takes Roger's shoulder and asks "Are you alright?"

At that question, Rog expels a breath and suddenly he's on his knees and his bare torso is pressed to Brian's shirt, his hands gripping the cloth as he kneels in a leather skirt and pantyhose with no words. Brian trembles, and then he runs his fingers through Roger's hair, dislodging the kerchief and drawing his friend even closer, til the drummer is practically in his lap. Brian finds himself rocking Roger ever so slightly back and forth. He knows they need to talk about whatever this is, the pair of them; but that can wait until tomorrow, after they sleep. 

At the moment as John and Freddie rest together peacefully, Brian leans against the end of the bed and holds Roger tight. He's going to be here for his Rogie, no matter what; and no matter where his thoughts tend, now they are all together, Brian believes things are going to be all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this piece is at an end now, loves - unless you think I need one more chapter as a sort of epilogue. EDIT: I've added a final chapter after this one :)
> 
> Bless these boys and all their affection for one another. I hope you've enjoyed this, and thank you for reading.
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Roger have a chat
> 
> References to nonconsensual sexual relations and concerns about possible abuse below
> 
> POV first person

I wake up next morning with a crick in my neck and some sharp hard thing pressing into the side of my abdomen, I've got soft skin, shut the fuck up - but I feel summat wrapped round me too, and sort of soft warmth on my head. I shift and grunt and feel softness shifting as I blink my eyes and look up into Brian's shadowed face. His cheeks are looking drawn under that wild curling hair. He shifts too, slightly, and I realise what was digging into my side is his left hip, as he'd apparently tried to make himself into a bed for me because Freddie and John are spread out across the actual bed, John's head on Freddie's chest and Fred's arms wrapped tightly around him. A bit of blanket hangs over like some ruddy tent and Bri's all folded up trying to make things comfortable for me, in his lap, even though his back is bent at a ruddy awful angle and "For fuck's sake," I shift and carefully move out of his lap to sit beside, "... stretch yourself out, Brian, you look like you didn't sleep for shit."

"I did!" He protests after hauling in air and blinking, and as I stare at him with my brows rising, he relents. "...Well alright I didn't, really, but it was better than other nights once you and Freddie got in, Rogie. Good morning, by the way." He bites his lip after saying that and those big eyes of his look at me so pleadingly, I dunno how anyone can refuse him a thing. Though I've made a habit of it as we don't agree on fucking anything. "What happened last night, Rog?" He asks. Still holds onto my shoulders, looking so worried like I'm the one who had a hellish experience. "I'm so glad you found Fred. Was he..." It's unlike Brian to struggle so much for words, save when he's all bumbling and embarrassed about sexual encounters - oh.

"You asking what he was up to last night?" I do my best to actually whisper, as Fred sleeps late ordinarily after being out all night, and besides he was so ruddy exhausted I want him to sleep. And plus he might be embarrassed by what Bri's asking, and I'm not going to do that to him. So I hedge, see if I can get Bri to back off on his own: "D'you really want to know about it, Bri?"

"I -" Brian blinks rapidly and is blushing like mad, but he powers through anyhow. "I just wondered, since you came in, like - the way you did... I, it worried me, Rogie. I mean Fred was _so_ exhausted, and. You looked -" his eyes get huge and horrified. "Oh, god, did something happen?"

I groan and push my hands through my hair, drawing my knees up and realising I'm still wearing skirt and hose. Luckily no shoes, so I stand and shuck them off to keep from answering, and plop down in my pants next to Brian, who turned away a bit to provide me with modesty, preserve it, like. Hah, what modesty? It's no problem for me going round without much on, we lived in a flat together for chrissakes. I lean back into him and stretch my legs with a sigh. Fuck, he's not going to stop looking at me and wondering til he gets an answer to his question. 

I pop up my head to check on Fred and John, and seeing no movement from either of them duck back down with a hiss: "Something nearly happened, alright? Well, something already had but I got there in time to help Freddie, and he -" I squeeze my eyes shut and swallow to stop myself from getting sick as I see that big hairy bastard again, holding Freddie, forcing him - "This wanker wanted Fred to - pleasure him, from what I saw, and Fred didn't want to do it. Maybe he'd offered, said he would earlier, but," I sniff and shake my head, jaw clenching so hard my teeth hurt. "The bastard was _hurting_ him, Brian, and he wasn't fighting back, so I ran in and -" I make a sharp movement that Brian understands.

His voice is soft, wrecked. "Oh, thank goodness you were there."

"Yeah," I bark out a bitter laugh. "Yesterday I was there. Yesterday I was too stubborn to let him fuck off, but what if that happens again, Brian? Or something like it, at least. You know how sweet Freddie is. He told me he has to give himself for people to love him, and damn it," I seethe as Bri goes silent and still, face chalk-white. He clutches my arm convulsively.

"Freddie, no."

"That's what I told him, but he didn't believe me, I'm sure of it." I swallow hard and lean into Bri's side, head lifting to look at him. "But I'm not giving up, we won't give up, right? We're going to look after him, and love the hell out of him, and"

"And keep him safe," Brian's nodding at me, resolved. Because he's Brian, though, he adds "If we - whenever we can. I don't want to invade his privacy, Roger."

I huff out air. "'Course not, Brian, but at the Shaft last night, he was glad I was there." I think on what we said and shared. "Told him I loved him," I say bluntly. "And he said he loves me. That counts for something, yeah?"

Brian's expression softens and he pulls me close, looking at me all sappy with those eyes. Bollocks. "Yes, Roger, it does," he breathes. "I have to believe..." Stops himself then, as I can tell he's about to go all dark and gloomy because he's Brian, but stops himself, I think for me and I'm bloody thankful. 

He presses his lips to my forehead and I pat him on the cheek smartly with "Good boy," after which he shoves me. But there's affection in his eyes, and we both look back up at the bed as noises precede John and Freddie waking up. A look and all four of us have stretched ourselves across the bed for a group hug. There's strength and security in that. Yeah.

We're here for each other, and for Freddie, and that means we're going to bloody be all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I said last chapter was the end, but felt this piece could use one more bit from Roger in order to be complete.
> 
> *Brian has said he and Roger disagree about practically everything but have a mutual respect for one another and I wanted to show that here. 
> 
> Along with band cuddles because those improve everything.
> 
> Hope you've enjoyed this, my loves. Comments appreciated as always <3


End file.
